


Sugar Babies Not Sugar Vaginas

by twothumbsandnostakeincanon (somanyofthekids)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, F/F, Female Peter Hale, Female Stiles Stilinski, Lesbian Sex, Sugar Daddy, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyofthekids/pseuds/twothumbsandnostakeincanon
Summary: Stiles is a copywriter working for a service that's been contacted by a company that sells something called Passion Dust. It's so much worse than it sounds.





	Sugar Babies Not Sugar Vaginas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twisted_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/gifts).



> I took the horrifying [pussy glitter](https://www.prettywomaninc.com/q-a) and used word alchemy to turn it into lesbian sex instead! With added bonus Daddy Kink! Because I guess this is what I'm doing now. 
> 
> For Twisted_Mind! Thank you for introducing me to this but also oh my god why. 
> 
> *It has occured to me that maybe not everyone knows what a copywriter does. A copywriter is basically just someone who writes publicity for products.

“Don’t make me do this,” Stiles whispered, voice choked with desperation.

“I’m not making you do anything. You agreed to this when you signed the contract.”

“Not this. Never this.”

“Yes _this_. You agreed to take the assignments we give to you. This is your assignment.”

“There are innocent lives at stake!”

“You should have considered that before taking the job!”

“How could I have known that someone, _anyone_ , would reach out for product copy on _vaginal glitterbombs?"_ Stiles cried into her phone, ignoring the looks of the other Starbucks patrons.

“Your quarterly review is just going to be size 86 font saying ‘Most Dramatic Employee,’” Brad, Stiles’ boss, sighed.

“Did you look at the specs? It’s not FDA approved. It goes up your vag, is intended for sexual use, and it’s not FDA approved. Aren’t you worried about getting sued?”

“It’s not our product, we’re just writing the copy for it. You know how this goes, how often do companies even keep our exact wording? Any culpability we have is minimal to begin with, and disappears entirely once the service we’ve sold has been altered by the company we sold it to.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you can’t sleep at night?”

“Look, either write it or quit so I can assign it to someone else. You’re a good writer but it’s not like we’re trying win a Peabody here, Stiles. We’re trying to make money. You’re not irreplaceable. Goodbye.”

_Click_

Stiles dropped her phone on the table in disgust and frowned at her coffee. Starbucks wasn’t going to cut it. She needed the Good Shit, and she needed a quiet room to write where she could swear freely, _and_ she needed someone who might offer her a sexy shoulder rub afterwards.

There was only one place to get all three.

Stiles let herself into Peter’s apartment 20 minutes later, heaving an obnoxiously loud and aggrieved sigh to set the appropriate tone for her mood. She’d rather know right away whether Peter was going to kick her out.

Stiles was pushing her luck already by just showing up unannounced when they didn’t really have a relationship. Stiles always shied away from using any form of the word “girlfriend” in relation to Peter- “mutual orgasm pal” was what she usually thought to herself. Peter was older, obscenely gorgeous, and more clever than 80% of MacArthur Grant recipients. Stiles wasn’t going to press her luck by asking for more. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be loud about her current attitude, though.

Peter appeared in the living room a moment later with a raised eyebrow, just as Stiles was sliding sideways to slump on the couch. She looked up at Peter from the cushions and took a moment to appreciate the deep V on the wraparound dress she was wearing.

“Why sweetheart, one might think something’s wrong,” Peter drawled before coming to sit by Stiles’ head. Stiles immediately wiggled her way up the couch until her head rested in Peter’s lap, face rubbing the soft fabric. When Peter’s long nails began scratching through her short hair a moment later, she nearly melted.

“Everything’s wrong,” Stiles grumbled despite the beginnings of relaxation. “Pussy glitter.”

The nails on her scalp stopped and Stiles let out a little whine.

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Peter said. Stiles sighed and reluctantly sat up to look at Peter’s incredulous face.

“Cunt sparkles. Vaginal glitterbombs. _Passion Dust,_ tee-em. It's literally exactly what it sounds like, and I have to write product copy for their website.”

“Oh good God,” Peter said, slightly pale.

Taking the moment of freudenschade by the reins, Stiles pulled up the product notes and specs to be included in the website copy and showed it to Peter, pointing out the highlights.

“It’s a capsule filled with glitter, and apparently you just- stick it up there, and let the capsule dissolve. There are allergy warnings for coconut oil, vegetable based products, and sucrose-“

“Otherwise known as bacteria food,” Peter said, looking a little green now as she scanned the document.

“-yeah, and another warning that you might notice ‘small granules’ in your mouth if you suck a dick that’s recently been in a glittered pussy. So like, if the glitter granules are big enough to notice in your mouth, it would stand to reason that they’re also big enough to notice when you’re getting dicked down right? What the fuck. That’s supposed to be a smooth ride. Granule free.”

“Sandy dick,” Peter said with a shudder as she scrolled down further. “Wait, you said they specifically want you to include the information about oral, which means they know the product will be in mouths, but here it says-“

“No FDA approval. Yep.”

“Jesus.”

“I don’t think you can blame this on him.”

“Their testing sample size was sixty-two women?” Peter demanded. “They got away with selling a vaginal product after that little testing? How-“

“You know how.”

Peter sighed.

“Yeah,” she grudgingly agreed. “I know. Fucking Christ, it straight up says here ‘using Passion Dust for its intended purpose has been ill-advised by medical professionals.’”

“And yet…”

“And yet,” Peter agreed again.

They both went quiet for another moment as Peter continued reading the specs, until Stiles suddenly yelled, “GRANULES. OH NO. Coconut oil. _Oh no."_

Peter furrowed her perfectly shaped brows for a moment before her eyes widened.

“Condoms. Coconut oil to weaken the condoms and granules to tear them. Oh my God they’re going to give someone a yeast infection and then get them pregnant after making them have shitty, sandy sex.”

They stared at each other in silent horror.

“Stiles, you can’t write for them. They’re guaranteed to eventually get sued. You don’t want to be anywhere near that.”

Stiles drew a hand down her face.

“I already talked to my boss. If I don’t do the assignment I’m fired.” She leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling, a hint of pleading in her tone. “I’m just an employee though right? If Passion Dust gets sued and the lawyers come after everyone involved, they would go after the copywriting service right? Not me personally?”

“Do you really trust your employer to protect you like that?”

Stiles cursed, flopping back over to bury her face in Peter’s thigh.

“We’re living in a capitalistic hellscape and I’m part of the fucking scenery,” she mumbled into the skin-warm fabric. Peter’s fingernails came back down on her scalp, gently scratching.

“You could always just give in and be my sugar baby,” she said quietly. “Let me take care of you while you look for a new job.”

Stiles snorted.

“Be serious, Peter. I actually do need some kind of income.”

“I’ve always been serious about it.” One nail traced down the back of Stiles’ ear. “I know you don’t take this, whatever-we-have, very seriously; which is perfectly expected, you’re barely 21 after all-“

Stiles suddenly flipped over, looking up from Peter’s lap with a shocked expression.

“You’re serious? You’ve _been_ serious?!”

Peter’s face would have appeared impassive to anyone else, but Stiles could see the shades of vulnerability in the corners, giving way to slightly stilted speech.

“As I said, it’s not as if I expect you to make a long term commitment. But I do get a certain amount of gratification out of providing for someone I… care about. You could use it, and I would enjoy doing it while you look for a new job. If you’re comfortable with developing our relationship, that is.”

Stiles was still in shock. Peter had a tendency to buy Stiles food and clothes occasionally, usually accompanied by some throw away joke about sugaring, but she’d never thought-

“Yes. Oh my God, _yes_ , are you kidding me? If I’d known you were serious-“

The smile on Peter’s face was less of its usual smirk and far more akin to genuine delight, and Stiles was struck by a sudden need to kiss it. She scrambled, just barely managing to avoid elbowing Peter in the process, and climbed up to straddle her lap.

She dug her fingers into Peter’s long, thick hair, and pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. Peter’s hands came up to grip her hips, holding them tightly in place and allowing Stiles to lick into her mouth.

“Sex?” Stiles muttered against her lips. “Celebratory sex? Let’s-forget-vag-glitter-exists sex?”

Peter hummed agreement and moved her lips to Stiles’ jaw as she deftly pulled the tie at the side of her dress with one hand, leaving the other to wander up Stiles’ shirt.

Stiles eagerly pushed the dress off Peter’s shoulders only to be distracted by the red lace underneath. She pulled back a little to stare at the gorgeous bra, torn between _let me take that off_ and _let me try that on._

“I need a boob job,” Stiles said distractedly as she fingered the lace, rubbing a thumb over Peter’s nipple and grinning her sharp intake of breath. “Or you need a boob reduction. We somehow need to come to a boob equilibrium that will allow us to share bras.”

“I wear a 36 band and your ribs are barely big enough for a 32. Just changing tit size wouldn’t actually help.” Peter slid her hands across Stiles’ rib cage, wrapping around her sides possessively and bringing her even closer. “Tiny. How do you even fit all your organs in there? Are you missing some?”

“Excuse me, I’m the only one in this room with completely normal human physiology,” Stiles said, failing to keep the breathlessness out of her voice as Peter’s fingers played down her skin.

“Not _completely_ normal. I know you had your tonsils taken out.”

“My tonsils were never located in my rib cage.”

“No, and I’m starting to suspect your lungs aren’t either,” Peter said slyly as Stiles’ breath caught again when her fingers reached the dip of her spine. “Having trouble breathing, darling?”

“Shut up,” Stiles shot back lamely, simultaneously trying to push back into the touch and move closer.

“Or you could be a good girl and I could buy you all the pretty bras you want,” Peter suggested, leaning in to mouth over Stiles’ collarbone before latching on and sharply sucking on the skin. Stiles’ hands gripped Peter’s bare shoulders tightly, her moan ending in a breathless laugh.

“Oh, I think I’m going to like this Sugar Daddy thing,” she said.

“Sugar Mama,” Peter corrected as she leaned back to inspect the bruise she’d left. “Although I’m not opposed to being called ‘daddy,’” she finished with a smirk before becoming intrigued as Stiles’ pupils dilated further. She grinned like a shark.

“Oh, you _like_ that idea, don’t you baby?” Peter purred. “You like the idea of of Daddy taking care of you? You’d have to earn it first, though.”

Stiles’ heart started pumping in double time, trying to keep up with the sudden rush of blood downward. The rhythm was music to Peter’s ears.

“How would I earn it?”

Peter leaned back and spread her arms along the top of the couch.

“Impress me.”

A spark of determination lit up Stiles’ face, and she immediately scooted back off Peter’s lap and hit the floor on her knees. Spreading apart Peter’s legs, she ran her hands up those muscled thighs, bunching up the dress until she could spread it open to either side like a robe.

Licking her lips, she eyed the matching red lace hi-cuts that Peter wore. Despite knowing, quite thoroughly, what lie underneath, the sparse view through the lace titillated her. It made her feel as if she was getting away with something. Slowly, her fingers crept up to the waistband and slid underneath. She began tugging them down, glancing up at Peter to check her reaction.

Peter smiled back lazily, a queen on her throne awaiting her due. When Stiles reached the point where she could no longer move them without Peter’s help, she just raised an eyebrow.

Stiles had a moment of confusion before she realized what the game was. Instead of continuing to try to pull the lace off completely, she slid her fingertips down either side of the front panel, at the crease of her thighs. Peter spread her legs wider with an approving smile.

Stiles sat up higher on her knees, kissing up a thigh as her fingers continued to play with the lace, stroking the skin underneath delicately. By the time her mouth reached the join of her legs Peter was breathing more heavily, although still composed. Stiles resolved to do something about that.

She allowed her mouth to hover over the fabric for a few moments, letting the heat of her breath reach the skin beneath before bringing her lips down. She felt the slight prickle of hair through the fabric and pressed her tongue down for a brief second before hooking one finger in the side of the underwear and finally pulling it over, exposing her goal.

Peter’s slit was already glistening, but first-

“Ah!”

Stiles couldn’t stop a grin at Peter’s exclamation, and immediately put her tongue back to work on her clit. She flicked the nub again before pressing a slow, flat lick over it, and then repeated the action. Peter’s hands came down on the top of her head, fingers combing through the short strands before holding on to either side of her head and gently tilting her head down a little.

Stiles obediently licked lower, sucking as she went, until her tongue reached Peter’s cunt. She opened her mouth wider and dipped inside without hesitation. The blissful sigh from above her made her shiver a little with the pleasure of pride, her own stomach clenching with heat as Peter moaned.

Eventually she moved back up, not wanting cunt or clit to feel ignored. Stiles silently brought up the hand that wasn’t occupied with the underwear, and slid her long middle finger all the way in with a particularly strong suck to her clit. Peter gasped and clenched her hands into fists, grasping Stiles’ hair. Stiles moaned at the sensation, giving vibrations through her mouth.

“So good for Daddy,” Peter said, voice low with arousal. “What a good girl. Curl your finger baby, that’s it.”

Stiles eagerly did so, loving the sounds that Peter made when she touched her just right. Her mouth was beginning to get a little sloppy, jaw aching as she rode the hitching movements of Peter’s body. She added a second finger, pumping them faster now as she continued to stroke inside. Peter’s fists got even tighter, and her sounds breathier, until Stiles added a twist and Peter was suddenly fluttering and clenching around her fingers. She continued sucking and fucking into her, knowing that it would only be another minute before-

A loud moan broke through the apartment as Peter reached her second peak. Stiles finally started to slow, keeping her on the edge of overstimulation before Peter finally pushed her head away.

Stiles looked up, knowing her face was a mess of slick and self-satisfaction, and refused to wipe either thing away.

“Impressed?”

Peter had her on her back on the couch faster than Stiles could process. One breathless moment later, her jeans and underwear had been peeled down, and Peter slammed three fingers into her pussy. Her mouth was just as demanding as her hand, kissing the air from her lungs and biting her lips.

The fingers slid easily into her cunt, Stiles being far too turned on to have much resistance. A nearly feral sound left Peter’s mouth and a moment later her pinky joined, the four fingers curling up to work in conjunction with the heel of her hand as it ground against Stiles’ clit.

Stiles felt as if she were suddenly hurtling toward the edge of a cliff, both unable and unwilling to stop though she clung to Peter like a safety bar. The heel of her hand worked back and forth, sparking a new layer of pleasure with every pass over her clit, bouncing back to the fingers filling and stroking her from the inside.

As Peter’s hand sped up, Stiles had to turn her head to the side to breathe, allowing for an even sharper inhale when Peter’s other hand came up to cup her breast. Peter’s mouth moved to the hinge of her jaw, just below her ear, and began sucking at the skin there.

Stiles was so close, nearly overwhelmed by the heat of Peter’s mouth and rough handling of her cunt. She tried to tell Peter, tried to say she _needed,_ but all that came out of her mouth was- 

_“Daddy!”_

Peter growled, and a sharp bite to Stiles’ skin, a pinch of her nipple, and a particularly vicious grind of Peter’s hand all combined to send Stiles over the edge.  

Stiles lost time for at least a few minutes after that, only coming back down when Peter started using her finger to play connect the dots with the moles on Stiles’ stomach.

“Shower and then dinner?” Peter suggested.

“Mmm, yeah,” Stiles agreed, stretching. “Let me send a quick email and then I’ll join you, okay?”

Peter tilted her head to capture a searing kiss before getting up and heading for the bathroom. Stiles watched her curves sway until she was out of sight, and then picked up her phone.

 

_Bradley-_

_Copy for the Passion Dust™ assignment is attached._

_-Stiles_

(image: screen capture of a word document that says "fuck you I quit")

**Author's Note:**

> jesus shitting christ I still can't believe this is a real actual product


End file.
